lly Dunster who painted my dog," said Mr. Downing, "I
cannot understand the part played by Smith in this affair. If he did not
do it, what possible motive could he have had for coming to me of his
own accord and deliberately confessing?"

"To be sure," said the headmaster, pressing a bell. "It is certainly a
thing that calls for explanation. Barlow," he said, as the butler
appeared, "kindly go across to Mr. Outwood's house and inform Smith that
I should like to see him."

"If you please, sir, Mr. Smith is waiting in the hall."

"In the hall!"

"Yes, sir. He arrived soon after Mr. Adair, sir, saying that he would
wait, as you would probably wish to see him shortly."

"H'm. Ask him to step up, Barlow."

"Yes, sir."

There followed one of the tensest "stage waits" of Mike's experience. It
was not long, but, while it lasted, the silence was quite solid. Nobody
seemed to have anything to say, and there was not even a clock in the
room to break the stillness with its ticking. A very faint drip-drip of
rain could be heard outside the window.

Presently there was a sound of footsteps on the stairs. The door was
opened.

"Mr. Smith, sir."

The Old Etonian entered as would the guest of the evening who is a few
moments late for dinner. He was cheerful, but slightly deprecating. He
gave the impression of one who, though sure of his welcome, feels that
some slight apology is expected from him. He advanced into the room with
a gentle half-smile which suggested good will to all men.

"It is still raining," he observed. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Sit down, Smith."

"Thank you, sir."

He dropped into a deep armchair (which both Adair and Mike had avoided
in favor of less luxurious seats) with the confidential cosiness of a
fashionable physician calling on a patient, between whom and himself
time has broken down the barriers of restraint and formality.

Mr. Downing burst out, like a reservoir that has broken its banks.

"Smith."

Psmith turned his gaze politely in the housemaster's direction.

"Smith, you came to me a quarter of an hour ago and told me that it was
you who had painted my dog Sampson."

"Yes, sir."

"It was absolutely untrue?"

"I am afraid so, sir."

"But, Smith ..." began the headmaster.

Psmith bent forward encouragingly.

"... This is a most extraordinary affair. Have you no explanation to
offer? What induced you to do such a thing?"

Psmith sighed softly.

"The craze of notoriet